Unveiled
by DarkenedSparrow
Summary: This is the story about a teenager named Evan Veils. He is going through social trauma, being bullied and abused, his parents have gone away , but when the Prince of Nesacarra arrives, he starts to wonder about a final question to his father. Updated!
1. Flashback: Evan's Question

Evan Veils was only ten at the time when he last saw both of his parents. It was a very stormy morning, and the black, rain-filled clouds hovered with a sullen task to fulfill. As ill as he was, he watched the rain falling onto the concrete and the trees outside his two-story home, wondering when the sky would stop crying. His father, Theo, walked over to the green couch of silk, where his son sat on his knees to gaze through the see-through pane.

"The rain is suppose to cleanse the atmosphere, son," he told him. His deep voice compelled the boy to turn around. Evan's father was about seven feet tall, fit-figured and had dark brown hair to his shoulders. His son's hair was already longer than his by two inches. He continued with that same tone, "It may look like the earth is being punished, but in truth, the rain is just flushing its rage out. That is why the news anchor called it a 'torrential shower...' of some sort."

"It looks so sad," Evan replied, nearly choking. "I want to cheer them up!" As he sobbed, Theo placed a large hand on the child's shoulder.

"How about I tell the sky a powerful tale from my past?"

Eager to hear, Evan turned around and sat at attention. Theo looked up at the sky and stared. "One bright day, my wife and I practiced what we did best. We had to swordfight, for there was a championship coming. So, my brother came with a mannequin, like this old statue made of wood my sister Joyce made." He walked up to the shabby, wooden statue, and then he eyed the sword right by it. "He asked me, 'would you like me to rate your fine skill, my brother?' I agreed, so I took my sword and practiced on that. I will show you what I did." He grabbed the sword and wailed on the figure, wood flying fast and falling like leaves. Evan's mother, Arrea, heard Evan's excited squeal from the kitchen, and turned her head.

"Theus Augean Veils, I suggest you clean it up!"

Theo's green eyes glimmered in the bright firelight while gazing lovingly at his wife. "I will, my dear. I'm trying to cheer up the environment for Evan."

"That's nice. You still should not make messes for him, though."

Evan started laughing at the conversation. As his father picked up every shard of hickory, he kept telling his story. "My brother said I was remarkable for learning the technique so quickly. I turned, spun and jumped like I did now, and he did not know how to do that until I taught him. Now, a day like that is very good."

When Evan turned to the window, the sky was clear, bright and light blue. He ran to his father and embraced him. "Thank you!" cried he, "thank you, father!"

Theo smiled at him. I guess it worked out all right, he thought in relief.

Evan then asked him this question. "Why are all of your stories about swords and royalty? Are you a knight?"

Theo raised both of his eyebrows, turning to his wife. "Dear, how should I answer this one? I'm lost."

"He's too young to know. Tell him on his thirteenth birthday like your father suggested to you at his birth."

All of a sudden, the doorbell screamed at the residents. Evan jumped back and cowered in his dark green cover, shaking. His heart pounded over two hundred times a minute, and telling by how he shut his eyes, he was trying to deal with the pain from the shock. His mother ran over and held onto him. "Sometime this week, I'm getting to you to the doctor. This hyperventilation you've been going through already worries me."

Theo walked over to the door and opened in. Standing before him was a middle-aged woman with graying hair, wrinkly pale skin and a black coat made from the fur of a Border collie. It was Theo's sister, Joyce--and Evan hated her. Theo, however, tried to be respectful.

"Welcome, sister," he greeted. As she came inside, Evan got down from the couch and yelled at her.

"Aunt Joyce, you stole my favorite shoes last winter!"

Joyce's dark brown eyes gazed at her nephew. "Now, sweet Evan, I only bought you a better pair. I do not give an animal's rear end if you loved them so much!" Her voice cracked into that nasty, raspy tone when she said that. Evan shied away, but the reluctance ended when he took the wooden spoon from his mother.

"Stay back or I'll swing like my powerful father. Stand there and be spared or move and perish!"

His aunt snatched the spoon and turned to her brother. "May I ask why you told another story to him?"

"That is my way of inspiring him. You cannot tell me how to raise my son, Duchess Joyce."

"I don't care! That is why you and your wife have to leave to see father. I have the directions, so your modernized selves can find your way there and back."

"How dare you call us modernized, you wrinkled heathen!" Evan's mother snarled. Theo sighed, and consented.

"I believe we have been summoned. Will you respectfully look after Evan?"

"Of course," Joyce told him. "He still is my darling nephew…even though he has a racing heart you cannot even repair." Before she could even sit on the couch, the other woman stood her back up, pulling her by her arms.

"You sniveling witch!" She snapped. "You best not even bring up his pulse matter. That is our business!"

"It's not my fault he's sensitive," Joyce added, "I bet when he's a teenager, that racing heart will do something to alter his entire way of life. Now, say goodbye and run along to father."

Evan held onto his mother when she hugged him. "We must leave, Evan, so be kind to your aunt."

"What about my question to father?" he asked. His mother sighed, and told him he was too young to know about that. He had to wait a while. It was good enough for him.

Evan's father and mother walked out of the house. After that, they climbed into the family van and drove away. Joyce then turned to Evan. "Oh, I'm sure they will be back once they deal with their business. Now, I do know how you love to hear your father's stories about fighting. I have one we can act out together."

That night, Evan was screaming at the top of his lungs, and all who were around were able (and trying hard not to) hear his cries. The neighbors' delicate ears were pierced by the noise. Unfortunately, they were not strong enough to call the police.

Six years had passed, and neither of his parents returned to this day. Evan, now a very slender and very sensitive sixteen-year-old, is picked on by all of the students at Sellsworth High School. Like his aunt, they taunt him, beat him, and even come up with compelling rumors that stick to those who carried the same questions. Forced to endure the torture, he had to learn how to be as strong and as confident as his father. However, he felt no hope. Six years, no parents, an abusive aunt, conflicts at school…they all tied him down. One day, however, all of that would turn into his own interrogation of someone else. The same questions the other students had for him, he would have to have answered. It all started in his Junior English class, when the newest student of the school was honored and welcomed with much loyalty. When the kid was told to sit by Evan…who knew what was on his mind? And what was it about him that intrigued him? He had to figure that out on his own free will.


	2. The First Chapter: Prince and Peasant?

"Prince Allister Van Nelson, welcome to Sellsworth High!" Mr. Cavendish cheered at a television screen as the principal inducted the noble student. Most of the class immediately turned away, disliking the introduction. Evan, however, stared at the TV with interest. A new student was another chance to get to know someone. He never even spoke to anyone of his age before. Hopefully, he wouldn't be blown off.

Mr. Cavendish suddenly called Evan. "Mr. Veils, get the prince and ring him to me. You'll receive a reward once you do." Although he sounded quite rash, Evan decided to follow the English teacher's order. He stood from his seat, took his backpack and headed out.

In the office, a student with light blonde hair and black tips sat comfortably in the soft, crimson chair, waiting to be escorted to his first hour. Two tall, identical bodyguards, Ian and Ryan, were positioned on each side of him. Ian gave him a golden goblet of water. "This is for you, my master."

When he took one sip, he gagged, and tossed the fluid onto Ian's face. "You common cretin, this is the salt water for a sore throat. My throat is in perfect condition. Do you comprehend?" Ian nodded, wiping his face with a towel.

"May I make up for my minor mistakes?"

"I am fine. No thank you."

Evan walked inside the office, and the bodyguards got into their position. Ryan grimaced at him. The green-eyed teen was nearly paralyzed. Even his mind carried one thought that stuck to his mind. Why are they staring like that? Ian finally took one step forward and asked for his name.

"I'm Evan Severus Veils," Evan replied quietly. "I'm here to escort a new student into his first hour classroom."

"You sound like a girl. Take no offense. Before meeting with him, state his name, his occupation, his birthplace and one event he was involved in."

Suddenly, a small headache switched his thinking process when he looked at the one who sat in his chair. These words came out with much confidence. "Allister Van Nelson is the revered prince of Nesacarra, and last week on the gold moon, he completed the five trials to obtain all of his rights as a noble. Is that correct?"

The bodyguards jumped at his answer, and Allister immediately stood on his feet. As the huge twins walked out of the office, Allister's ice blue eyes glared at Evan with much confusion. "How did you know all of that?" he asked, wondering how Evan even came up with that. Evan scanned his entire figure. He had no answer. It just…came to him.

Allister seemed to have read the expression on his face. He crossed his arms. "I will ask that later on. You're…tensed up." As the two walked into the hallway, Evan's face turned beet red. When he looked at his face through Allister's pendant, light-headedness settled in, and he fell to the floor. Allister turned around to look at him. His eyes grew with concern.

"You're paler than a sheet of drawing paper!" he gasped. "Must you bear a health condition? I've only seen it once; at my grandmother's deathbed."

Evan got up, and he told him breathily, "I've done that since I was ten. I won't get into much detail." He continued to take the prince to his classroom, but Allister stopped him in his tracks by grabbing his sweater by the heart. Staring into his eyes, he tried to decipher who he was. His eyes then became soft and let go of him.

"I was going to ask something, but I will refrain from it." They walked again, but Allister then said something off. "I am unable to call you a commoner." Evan failed to hear that. His mind was only focused on taking him to class.

In class, Mr. Cavendish confronted Evan. "Thank you so much for the favor. Now, Hold still for me." All of a sudden, he slapped the student in the mouth, sending blood, skin and strands of auburn hair flying sideways. He landed on his hands and knees, covering his mouth. Allister remained frozen in shock. As he stood, and as the class clapped in approval, Allister turned to Mr. Cavendish.

"Did you just slap your own student?"

"His aunt gave me permission because he has to be treated a different way. His emotions need to be brought out." As Mr. Cavendish went back to his desk, Allister sat in his seat next to Evan, where he nursed his bloody mouth. The prince took out a green handkerchief and handed it to him. Evan looked at him. "What is this?" he asked.

"This is one of my lucky handkerchiefs. I have more, so you can keep this one. Besides, it's your primary color."

Evan took the silk cloth and wiped the blood off. He thanked him, though his tears nearly fell out. Allister smiled at him, and then turned away. The thought of helping him wash up and brush off seemed ridiculous to him, but it was only a small favor. While Evan finished cleaning his face, the Nesacarran prince wondered, "Is that a mark on your shirt?"

There was a distinct design on Evan's shirt. It was a vine-like letter V with crossed swords, which were also the color of his eyes. Evan nodded. "I made up the look, and I've had this since I was ten. It's a tribute to what my father was fighting for. There's another mark on me, but I hide it."

Allister made a mental note of that. It seemed all too mysterious that the boy would be hiding almost everything from the world. If he wasn't, why would he speak differently to the bodyguards he practically scared off? Whatever the answer was, it might make an impact in more ways than one.

Evan then took out a blank piece of drawing paper. As Mr. Cavendish explained the project, he started drawing. Periodically, he'd turn to Allister to get a good look at his face. When he did not, Allister would stare at him. Two minutes passed by and Evan completed a shaded sketch of the prince. It was impeccable: no mistake had been made. Allister gazed in awe. "I'm…stunned," he told him as it was handed to him. "Whose eyes do you have?"

"…Mine," Evan replied quietly. "I can observe certain people and draw them. Recently, all were famous."

Allister then thanked him. "I will make sure to hang this in my room. No one had drawn me without missing a single detail. As of now, I feel like I'm staring in a pool of clean water."

Mr. Cavendish heard the whispers, and yelled out at Evan, "Your voice gives me a migraine! Don't speak to the prince. You are nothing but a lousy peasant!"

"It's not like I've talked in class before," snarled the auburn-haired Junior, "and just because you're allowed to abuse me does not mean you can pinpoint all of my wrongs." He shut his eyes and rested his head on his desk. The other students stayed silent, waiting for the teacher to say something back. To their dislike, Mr. Cavendish did nothing. He ignored him.

"Now, class, I want you to read the History of Nesacarra for homework. Tomorrow, the prince will give his account on what it is like to live there, and Evan Veils will assist him in at least one part of his explanation. Now, you may pack up. I've nothing else to say." As the others got their belongings together, Allister turned to Evan's pale face. It seemed that they wanted the teen to be embarrassed by someone of higher rank. That was not going to happen.

Later on, Evan was in the men's locker room, dressing out for freelance training. All of the students were his height, but they were all very strong. (However, it was because most of them used steroids to make Evan look weak). One of them, a dark-skinned twenty-year-old fourth-year senior, walked up and glared at him. "Do you need to get out of your sweater?"

"No," Evan replied. "I'll deal with my sweater."

"I think you need help."

All of a sudden, he grabbed Evan from behind, and while wrestling with him he pulled the sweater off of him, exposing the many scars from his aunt…and one that the other teen couldn't even stare at. Evan grabbed his hood and covered his chest. He ran into the bathroom, stirred by the incident. The rest of the boys laughed as he washed his face in the sink. When all became quiet, Evan looked into the mirror. For some reason, the color of his eyes reflected like a light.

Someone familiar commented quietly, "Your eyes...carry an emerald shine. I never noticed it until now."

Evan spun around and rammed his bare back into the sink, still covering his chest. Allister stood there with one eyebrow raised with deep interest on his mind. He wore a black and ice blue jacket with matching pants, and he knew why he wasn't even dressed. "You have many commoners on your tail, don't you?"

"More like a commoner chasing a commoner," the other told him with a heavy breath. He lowered the sweater, revealing a deep mark on his chest. It was the same one from the jacket. Allister's eyes popped at the sight.

"Did you just call yourself a commoner?"

"Yes."

"Take it back," he ordered. "That's not what the scar implies."

Then, they heard the teacher. "Get out here! We are sword-fighting in honor of Prince Allister Van Nelson!"

Evan quickly jumped into his gym clothes and headed out. Allister followed him. When they got outside, Allister grabbed him by the arm and rammed his back into the wall.

"I apologize for becoming rash. It's just that I see something in you, and it's not coming out. I will find out."

He freed him, and they walked into the gymnasium.

Most of the students carried wooden swords and played around. Evan and Allister had real swords. (Ryan handed Evan his because "he deserved it"). Their practice was quick, but right away, the prince figured Evan was very skilled at it. They tied twice.

"I cannot defeat you, yet. Usually, I am able to take one down with a single swipe of the blade."

Evan did not reply to that until he pushed the prince's sword back. "My father was able to slay thirty-two possessed priests with one swing of his sword and hold the power within it. Usually, I don't tell anyone about my father because they fail to listen."

Allister stared at him. "You act like two different people. One is always bullied while the other can defend himself. This has to be an environmental phase."

He swung…and Evan swiftly deflected it without looking at him. As the sword flew to the side of the room, Allister was left…trembling. The two bodyguards gasped. "You have been beaten! What occurred?"

Allister was astonished, yet he congratulated him. "I may not have been focused, but you managed to find a weak point in me and exploit it. Maybe your way of duality has become a helping tactic."

"You deserve more praise than I do." Evan gave Ian the sword. "Besides, you are known because you're…noble."

"You have to traits of one. And don't call yourself a commoner."

"Why?"

"You are not a commoner to me. Understand that." The seriousness in his deep voice rattled through Evan's veins, and he suddenly gained the same dark speech.

"I understand, but what holds me back is the rest of these hideous ghouls. Six years is too long."

Allister smiled at him. "That's why I figured out what I was seeing."

Evan's face turned red. "…You did?"

"You have a strong motivation, and no one will let you bring that out. Someday, you'll have to reveal it to all else."

The P.E. coach suddenly ran to Evan. "What on earth are you doing with the prince?" he wondered. His bulky face was scarlet, and Evan told him that they were training.

"We both sword fight."

"He is the one who has a sword. You have nothing. Now, get a rope and start jumping. Then, you can only watch us try and beat Prince Allister."

As he turned around, and before he could start off the other way, Evan narrowed his eyes.

"No."

The word was final…and fatal. The coach turned right back around and yelled out, "Do not tell me no, Mr. Veils!"

Evan tried to keep calm, but as he was called every profane name in the book of hatred, his rage made his heart face. When the teacher was finished, he just eyed him. It was as if he mentally zoned out. (It might have been because he pushed all of those words aside and concentrated on how to react). Allister wasn't surprised that he did not punch him.

…But he was absolutely mortified when the teacher pulled out a dagger, grabbed him from behind and held it at his throat.

The other students rallied around the two, ordering for Evan's voice to be slashed. Evan just looked at the Prince, who was handed his sword. He knew that he would be all right if he just relaxed. This was not the first time he was held captive. With his eyes shut and his head raised high he waited for his fate. Allister saw the strain his acquaintance endured, and his body trembled. He had to do something to release Evan from the situation he was in.

Ian and Ryan walked behind the coach, and waited for their cue. Evan, still straining, stared down at the silver blade. It was so close to his neck that he had to hold his breath. The coach whispered in the teen's ear. "This is your punishment for denying the authority. Saying no to me is a definite sign of defiance. You comprehend me? Now, you must face everyone that despises you. If you move, you will ultimately suffer in front of them."

Evan suddenly smiled. Allister raised both eyebrows. He knew what he was up to.

"You're forgetting something, Mr. Brock. Not everyone hates me."

The teacher positioned the knife closer, but this time, it failed to bring any more fear into Evan. Maybe he was at his peak. Ian and Ryan tackled the teacher, and Evan was freed from his grasp. Allister grabbed him by his sleeves and embraced him. The two feel to their knees. As the students wandered off, disappointed at the outcome of the event, Allister told him that he did not want to see him in that predicament ever again. It scared the living daylights out of him! Evan was only relieved that his throat wasn't slit. Through that morning, he realized that there was someone near him who actually bore a beating heart…and he did not want that pulse to fade away…just like his parents.


	3. The Second Chapter: Allister's Opinion

After school, Evan walked around the city park, recollecting his thoughts on what had occurred in gym. He was actually...embraced by someone. The last one he remembered was when his parents were told to leave. Nothing could have been more important to him than that. Someone actually cared. That word rang unfamiliar in his head until he recalled how Allister took hold of him, squeezing him tight like his own security blanket. Who knew what his thoughts were, then.

Sooner than not, he caught a glimpse of Allister, who stood by the water fountain…staring straight at him. His ice blue eyes contrasted with the bright orange twilight. They seemed to crystallize. Evan walked up to him.

"How are you?" he asked, worrying that he was mentally traumatized forever. The prince sighed, and he told him quietly that he was in shock.

"You're stronger than you think you are, Evan. I was even alarmed when the knife was held to your throat. And at one point…I heard something off. It was right before I grabbed you from the coach."

Evan then raised an eyebrow. "What…did you hear?"

Allister placed his hand at his chest. "I thought I heard your heart racing. I'm sure it wasn't mine. It was too fast…too powerful. It's the sign of a noble."

"Noble?" Evan repeated. Allister explained that all nobles have a unique feature, audible or not. If a noble could hear one's heartbeat, the bearer of that heart had to be of a royal lineage. If the pulse was powerful to one's ears, the lineage had to be very strong, thus the person was a Knight, a Prince or a King. Evan took all of that in and shut his eyes.

"I remember asking my father if he was a King."

"The reason?"

"…The way he spoke and the way he fought. When I was ten, he told a story about how he and my mother were training for the competition in a faraway place. His brother brought out a mannequin like this shabby statue my aunt made. Of course, he destroyed it, spinning, jumping and crouching as he slashed his blade with swift force. I enjoyed seeing that, but my mother freaked out at the mess he made. She ordered him to clean it up. I wondered why he always told a story about swords and fighting."

Allister grinned. "…I heard the same thing from my own father. However, my mother paid no mind while she was caring for me. I was only two years old, yet I knew exactly what he was doing. Another difference is the fact that he ruined my grandfather's ice sculpture of himself."

The two laughed, and they started walking. Allister took out his blade, and he started narrating his own story.

"About a week ago, it was the night of the golden moon. I was of age to actually carry my rights as a noble. In order to gain them, I had to sacrifice my own strength against the dark priests of Veilithar. They were our enemy, although the relations with the nobles were knots and bows. Luckily, they did not leave a scar on me. The second task, I had to use my sword to open separate locks and damage the door to the Grand Hall. Thirdly, I went up against my own father. To his surprised, I surpassed him without much force. The fourth step was giving up one thing from my childhood. I gave up my security blanket."

Evan had to laugh, and he asked what color.

Allister continued. "It was like your eyes, Sir Veils. I do miss that, and I might stare at you like I do my blanket. Anyhow, my final step was the prayer of the nobility. My voice had to be deep, quiet, and like my father's. Though some said I sounded like my aunt, I went with it anyway. So…that's it. I don't remember the rest."

"I sound like my mother sometimes," Evan made fun of himself. "Either that or I sound like a Brit. The only time my father's voice appears is when I'm serious or angry. It's…rare."

"…I believe you sound more like your mother, no offense."

"Don't worry. I've been told that."

"It's a good thing."

Evan turned scarlet. What was Allister doing this time? At school, he was interested in him while he tried to protect him. Now, he was acting like a sort of boyfriend. That fact alone scared Evan…and he just met him at school. Allister still smiled. I wonder what he would do if I were to test him, he thought.

The prince then asked if he wanted to go to his mansion. "I'll introduce you to my parents. Maybe you can regain some memory."

"That sounds great, but I worry that my aunt will fume."

"Then, I can help you escape. Friday, then?"

"I promise."

They went out of the park, and by eight in the evening, they stopped in front of Evan's two-story house. After saying goodbye, Evan walked in. His aunt sat lazily by the fire in the living room. "Where did you go, Evan?" she asked, nearly wavering. Evan said he had to stay after school to catch up with English homework. Joyce stood, and grabbed her knife. "I want you to be near me, my nephew. I nearly had a heart-attack when you failed to return."

Evan knew what was going to happen. Joyce pulled him by his shirt and sliced his midsection. Then, she threw him down. "Go to…your room. Now!" her scream left Evan scrambling up the stairs and into his bedroom. His head became light when he realized that he was bleeding. His world went dark for a few hours. It seemed like eternity.


End file.
